An Unwanted Visitor
by pirateoftherings
Summary: Despite repeated warnings, Ben Kenobi keeps visiting the Lars' moisture farm. This time, however, Owen's had enough.............Please R&R!


Owen Lars surveyed his moisture farm through a pair of electrobinoculars. They'd need to do some maintenance on those vaporators soon to keep up with the growing demand… Suddenly, a dark speck against the endless sand caught his attention. Focusing on the distant shape, he could make out an older man dressed in disheveled robes slowly riding an equally disheveled eopie toward the homestead. Owen frowned and put down the electrobinoculars. _Not again… _Muttering a few choice words, he turned and hurried back inside the house.

"Beru?" he shouted. "Where's my blaster?"

"Why do you need a blaster, Uncle Owen?" Luke asked, sticking his head out suddenly from the kitchen.

"None of your concern," Owen grunted in response. "Beru!"

His wife emerged from the kitchen as well. "Are the Sand People at it again?" she asked in concern.

"Worse," he muttered, finally locating a small blaster and shoving it in his belt. "Kenobi."

"Ben Kenobi?" Luke asked, his eyes growing wide with excitement. "Can I talk to him, Uncle Owen?"

"No," Owen answered bluntly. "I told that crazy old hermit I'd shoot him if he set foot on my land again, and I intend to make good my word."

"Owen!" Beru scolded sharply, resting a hand on Luke's shoulder. "You'll do no such thing! Why can't you at least _try_ to be civil to the poor old man? You know he means well."

Owen sighed and headed back out the door. "It's what he _means_ that bothers me," he grumbled under his breath.

The robed man had almost reached the house, and Owen could just make out his features. A brown hood covered his windblown, graying hair and cast a shadow over his bearded face. Time, sun, and worry had been permanently etched into his tan face, but his blue-gray eyes shone with a youthful energy. Frowning, Owen stood in his path with his arms folded as the old eopie came to a slow halt. The blaster remained in his belt, but it wasn't forgotten. "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, Kenobi: Go away and _stay_ away."

The older man squinted slightly to see who was addressing him, then broke into a wide smile. "Why, hello there, Owen!" he said cheerfully, as though he hadn't heard a word Owen said. "I was just on my way to pay you a visit!"

"I see that," Owen replied gruffly. "And now that you've visited, you can leave."

Kenobi dismounted lightly from the eopie and patted the old animal affectionately on the neck. "As happy as I'd be to oblige, I'm afraid I came here out of great need. My cooling unit has broken down, and I need-"

"Can't help you," Owen cut him off.

"You don't even have a-"

"Nope. And don't be trying any of your old Jedi sorcery either, Kenobi. Now beat it."

"Ben!" a young voice cried out behind him. Seconds later, Luke was running past him to greet Kenobi.

"What did I say about not talking to him?" Owen asked sharply.

Ben ruffled the young boy's hair affectionately, ignoring Owen's grumblings. "Hello there, Young Skywalker. How are you this fine afternoon?"

The boy shrugged. "I'm all right, I guess. Sure is hot, though."

"That it is," Kenobi agreed. "Would you expect any less from Tatooine?"

"Not really…Wanna know something funny, Ben? Uncle Owen said he was gonna shoot you if you set foot on his property again."

The old man raised his eyebrows slightly. "Did he, now?" he asked, his eyes shifting up to appraise Owen.

"Yeah, but he was just kidding," Luke added hastily. "Uncle Owen likes to joke around a bunch."

"Oh, I'm certain he does," Ben replied, only a hint of sarcasm lacing an otherwise innocent voice. "Your uncle strikes me as an individual who would have a very keen sense of humor."

"Don't be so sure…" Owen muttered. "Luke, go back inside with your aunt. Mr. Kenobi and I have some business to discuss."

"But I-"

"Luke, you'd best listen to your uncle," Ben advised him, reaching into the pocket of his brown cloak. "Here, I got you a little something." He produced a small model of a T-16 skyhopper and placed it in the boy's hands.

"Wizard!" Luke exclaimed, looking it over. "Where'd you get it?"

"A merchant in Mos Eisley. Now go on; you don't want to make your uncle angry."

Begrudgingly, the boy nodded and headed back inside.

As soon as he was sure his nephew was out of hearing range, Owen addressed the old hermit. "Kenobi, you and I both know that you didn't come here to discuss spare parts for a faulty cooling unit, and I'm obviously not going to get rid of you 'til you've said what you came to say, so let's have it."

Kenobi sighed and looked to make sure Luke was no longer listening. His cheerful smile immediately sobered into a look of concern. "Owen, the Empire is growing worse all the time. Day by day, the emperor's hold grows tighter, stripping away more and more freedoms from the people."

"…And?" Owen asked after waiting several seconds for him to continue. "It's none of my business what the Empire does. I doubt they're too interested in an Outer Rim moisture farmer, anyway."

"No, but they will be interested in the boy," Kenobi pointed out. "Luke is strong in the Force, Owen. He is old enough now to be trained as a Jedi." He pulled out a long, black-and-silver cylinder just smaller than the palm of his hand in diameter. "This was Anakin's lightsaber. It is suiting that his son be allowed to wield it in a fight to undo the damage his father has managed to inflict."

"Never," Owen said, shaking his head stubbornly. "Luke's just a kid. I won't have you taking him away just so you can brainwash him into following your extinct religion. This isn't his fight."

"Luke is our only hope!" Ben insisted urgently. "This was his fight from the day he was born!"

"Anakin went and got involved, and look where it got him," Owen argued. "He should have stayed at home with his mother and stayed out of things that were bigger than him."

Kenobi seemed pained at this reference to Anakin, but he stood his ground. "Anakin," he said slowly, "fought for what was right. He did his duty. Likewise, Luke must now do his. You must let me train him!"

"See, that's where you're mistaken, Kenobi. As Luke's legal guardian, the only thing I _must_ do is what's best for him."

"But surely you see that-"

"No, Obi-Wan, I don't see," Owen admitted. "I don't see what right you have to take away my ten-year-old nephew from the only home he's known and train him to kill. Luke is the closest thing I have to a son, and I'm not giving him up that easy. Now, get off my land."

"Perhaps now is a bad time to ask… I will be back, though, Owen. It is still my duty to protect Luke."

"No, that's why he was given to _me_. It's _my_ job to look after him. And if I catch you on my land again, Kenobi, I _will_ make good my promise to shoot you. Now beat it."

Kenobi nodded his head sadly and clipped the lightsaber back on his belt. "Very well," he said, mounting his old eopie. "But remember this, Owen: You can't change Luke's destiny; you can only deter it."


End file.
